Runaway Train
by A.Boleyn
Summary: DL. One horrific crime scene, a few seconds, and everything is turned upside down. It's a powerful force that is sweeping them away, and all they have to hold on to is each other. Chapter fic with some case material and DL drama. Complete
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Utilizing characters from CBS merely for my own entertainment and creative expression, nothing more.

A/N: This is a chapter fic I began back in January, just now finishing the tenth (and final chapter). It's my attempt at writing adventure/suspense, though contains the usual fluffiness that I so love. :) Thanks to Elainhe for doing the pre-read, errors are mine as I did not have it beta'd.

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**◄RUNAWAY TRAIN► **

Chapter 1

"We're in the middle of freaking nowhere, Montana."

Lindsay tapped her fingers on the armrest of the department SUV, humming to herself in an attempt to ignore Danny's fit of frustration. They were completely lost on a rutty mountain road, on their way to a crime scene. Despite this, she was enjoying the scenery; the lush forest around them was so dense, it blocked out the early morning sun above. They may have been in the mountains of New York, but it seemed more like the dark, dank jungles of Borneo. Lowering her window, she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the air which was still heavy from the previous night's rainfall. The rich, mossy aroma filled the car, exhilarating her senses.

Being in the wilderness always made Lindsay happy, and so did being with Danny. Of all the feelings he evoked in her, happiness outranked even confusion. The confusion was not so much about her feelings for him, but rather, the uncertain state of things between them. They had reached a plateau in the ascent of their relationship: from coworkers to friends to more than friends, but not quite romantic. It seemed like an endless dance of cautiously circling, stepping forward, then stepping back quickly. Despite the lack of direction, she was content to simply enjoy being near him. Her heart would beat faster, she smiled almost involuntarily, her mood lifted; days never failed to look brighter when Danny was around. Perhaps that, she realized, was what kept her from trying to secure their romance. The fear of something going wrong was what kept her paralyzed--because once you reach that high, where else is there to go but down? Where does the line blur between candlelight dinners or flowers and arguing over the electric bill or who forgot to cap the toothpaste? Though the logic was twisted, she understood, it seemed easier to move along in a state of limbo. Taking risks was never something Lindsay was fond of, especially when she couldn't decide if the joy of having him would be worth the agony of losing him. Simply put, if he wasn't hers, she couldn't lose him. Still, she ached for something more than just flirting and the occasional light touch. She would often find herself fantasizing about what it would be like to fall asleep with his arms around her, or to become accustomed to the taste of his lips.

"Hey, do you mind? It's like the Arctic Circle out there," Danny grunted, pulling her out of her semi-conscious daydream and back into the car. Her window was open just a slit, but apparently enough for him to notice the mild draft. "Anyway, you're supposed to be my navigator."

Lindsay pursed her lips to avoid smiling. His endless stream of protests that morning—coffee too cold, raining, and now being lost—never ceased to secretly amuse her. Invigorated enough from the brief rush of fresh air, she rolled her window back up and squinted at the scrap of paper on which Danny had scribbled directions.

"You have awful handwriting," she teased, trying to decipher the words. "But according to this, we're on the right road—Rural Route 29. Maybe we just haven't gone far enough."  
Danny checked his cell phone. "It's a wonder Mac hasn't called to see why we're late. If he finds out we haven't gotten to the scene yet, he'll be having our heads on a platter."  
They continued along at a snail's pace, peering out the windshield for any clue that might lead them to their destination. It was so desolate, there was no sign of human life anywhere—just trees and shadows.

At last, Lindsay spotted a small wooden sign hammered to a tree. The paint was faded and peeling , making the crudely-stenciled words almost illegible. It pointed up a windy, ascending driveway; mostly loose dirt with sparse chunks of gravel. "Here we go—Booker's Mill Station. This is where we need to be."

She had barely finished her sentence when Danny slammed on the brakes, sending her lurching forward in the seat. Thrusting her hands out in time, she was able to avoid bumping her head against the dashboard.

"Sorry," he muttered, putting the vehicle into reverse and turning into the driveway. It was a steep incline which seemed to lead straight upwards into the canopy of tree tops. Thanks to the spinning tires, no progress was made towards finding out what lay on the other side.

Lindsay felt awkward as the wheels whirred and spun, and Danny cursed under his breath. "It looks like we're going to have to four-wheel it up there," she advised. "The ground is still too muddy from all the rain."

Danny nodded, but he didn't otherwise respond or move. After listening to the engine idling and his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, Lindsay guessed the problem. "You've never driven in four-wheel drive before, have you?"

He winced, as if though it were a blow to his masculinity. "Where exactly would I have had the chance to? Times Square? Not everybody grows up on a cattle ranch, Country Girl."

Lindsay smothered a chuckle before it surfaced_. There's only one way to handle this, _she thought, hoping he couldn't see the amusement on her face. "Get out," she commanded. She knew it was time to take charge of the situation. This was how they managed to balance each other out, and why they made a great team—they knew each other _that_ well. "We'll trade places."

She unbuckled and slipped out the door, Danny following suit without argument. As they passed each other around the rear of the vehicle, their bodies brushed; a rustling of fabric and static electricity. The warmth coming from Danny's body was an unexpected delight which caused Lindsay to shiver. Being near him caused a chemical reaction deep within each cell of her body, a phenomenon which never lost its power on her.

"You sure you can handle this?" Danny asked, hopping into the passenger seat and watching Lindsay adjust the driver's seat to suit her small frame.

"If I can drive a John Deere, I can drive a Chevy," she replied with a rueful grin. He smiled back at her, and the brief eye contact caused a flutter in her belly. Shifting the vehicle into neutral, she turned on the four-wheel-drive, then changed gears again before gradually pressing the gas. This time, they moved forward steadily.

"Alright!" Danny cheered, as they sailed up over the embankment without falter. Lindsay thought—or at least _hoped_—there was a note of pride in his voice.

What stood waiting for them at the other end of the driveway was not what they had expected. There, in the middle of a clearing, was a single run-down brick building. Several dilapidated cars and trucks were parked outside. A freight train was stopped on the tracks, it's dusty brown cars seeming to stretch on for a mile.

"This dump is the _train station_?" Danny asked in disbelief. "It's like some kind of backwoods Harry Potter."

"Well, they haul coal, not people," Lindsay reminded him, parking next to a police cruiser. "It's just for picking up and unloading cargo."

After gathering their evidence kits, they headed towards the far side of the building where a group of uniformed officers milled about. The yellow police tape was a sharp, rude contrast to the calm greenery of the woods beyond. As they walked, Danny's hand would occasionally brush Lindsay's, and whether it was on purpose or accidental did not influence the electrical charge that would rush up her arm. Just being with him was so easy, so why couldn't the rest come as naturally?

"How you doin'?" Danny nodded to the head detective on the scene, Bert Wyndham. It wasn't really a question, just his customary greeting that Lindsay had developed a soft spot for. When he said it to her, her knees always felt a bit strange, like wobbly gelatin not quite set. After all, those were the first words he ever said to her. Three words, and her life had changed. Three words, and everything since had been a blur, carrying her away so fast she didn't know what had hit her.

"It's about time," Wyndham ribbed them good-naturedly. "I was beginning to think you got lost out there in the boondocks."

Lindsay looked sheepish. "Actually…" she began to admit.

"We just got the call less than an hour ago," Danny finished, nodding. "So, what have you got for us?"

"Prepare yourselves," Wyndham warned, stubbing out his cigarette with the toe of his boot. "This isn't a pretty sight."

"I know they said our vic was killed on the train tracks, but please don't tell me…". Danny grimaced, his voice trailing off as they came upon the victim.

Or what was left of him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Please note that this will not be a chapter fic, really. The case is important, of course, but the focus is DL, as it always is for me. :) Don't be expecting a huge focus on the case itself.  
A caution that there is a BIT of gore in this chapter - but if you watch CSI, you should be accustomed to it._

_Thanks for your reviews thus far - they are greatly appreciated! Hearing your thoughts always interests me and keeps my muse working (she has a lazy streak).__  
_

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**Chapter 2**

Lindsay gasped at the scene that lay in front of her: a man's mutilated body, sliced in the center where the train had passed over him. The shoulders and head were lying on one side of the tracks, the pelvis and legs on the other. The entire abdominal area had been obliterated. It was a horrific sight, even for two people accustomed to a daily dose of murder. Uniformed officers were combing the ground, picking up tiny, scattered pieces of tissue and bone. One man, a seasoned cop Lindsay recognized from many crime scenes, ducked into the brush and vomited.

She suddenly felt as if the air had thickened into a porridge, and struggled momentarily to draw a breath into her lungs. Danny's hand, a gentle pressure on the small of her back, helped her regain her composure.

"What happened here?" she asked Wyndham, casting Danny a flash of a grateful smile.

"There was no I.D. found on the body, we're checking with Missing Persons," Wyndham sighed. "It looks like he was chained to the railroad tracks by his wrists, with his arms out crucifixion-style. The workers have been here since seven this morning, but never heard any calls for help or struggling. That makes me wonder if he was already dead when he was brought here."

"There's too much blood," Danny said, shaking his head. "It looks like he died here, or was maybe unconscious when they brought him and chained him up. We'll send him to Hammerback to confirm. Did anyone see anything strange this morning?"

"The station manager saw a guy in a red sweatshirt running off into the woods around eight," Wyndham recounted. "The next thing he heard was the commotion of the train stopping and--well," he nodded to the grizzly piles around them, "the rest is history."

Lindsay nodded grimly, picking up the camera. "We'll let you know what we find," she told Wyndham.

Danny snapped on a pair of latex gloves, then pointed to the two portions of the body. "Okay, Montana, your turn to pick. You want on the top or the bottom?"

Lindsay glowered at him, feeling that familiar tug-o-war between wanting to strangle him or kiss him senseless. She was grateful that Wyndham had wandered off and was out of earshot. At least Danny was trying to lighten the mood. Despite the teasing she endured, she was glad it was him here with her.

"I'll take the top," she replied tartly, wondering if there was truth to the old adage that trying _not_ to blush only made the coloring more intense.

She set to work photographing the body and the blood-soaked earth surrounding it, and documenting every piece of evidence she could find. Unfortunately, little was left intact. The horror she saw required her to work quickly and without room for emotion. Still, a wave of nausea snuck up on her every so often, stealing her breath away. She hoped fervently that this man had died before being placed on the tracks. She couldn't imagine the terror he would have experienced otherwise. Sadly, the evidence before her told a different tale: his eyes were bulging out in fear, his mouth still open in an O-shaped silent scream.

Shuddering, she avoided his face and moved to his hands. The welts around his wrists showed just how he had been chained to the tracks, completely immobilized and helpless. Examining his hands further, she noticed red, cotton-like fibers under the fingernails.

"Look at this," she called over to Danny, using tweezers to deposit the fibers into an evidence bag. "From a red sweatshirt, you think?"

Danny looked up from where he was positioned over the bottom half of the body. "So maybe he tried to put up a fight. He knew what was going to happen." He shook his head, then pointed to the man's legs. "He was tied down by his thighs, too, with your average bicycle lock and chain. Same as the wrists. He had no hope of getting away."

"It's like a horror movie," Lindsay replied softly, pausing to zip up her jacket. It wasn't the weather, but the crime scene which left her so chilled.

Danny summoned both the station manager and train conductor for questioning, and she listened casually to their exchanges in order to distract herself from the ruins before her.

"Do either of you know this man?" Danny asked, pointing to the victim's upper half.

"I've never seen that guy before in my life," the manager gulped, trying not to look directly at the gruesome remains. "Although, it's sort of hard to tell… I mean, there isn't much left…".

"Yeah, yeah, we get that," Danny said impatiently. "What did you see this morning?"

"The only thing unusual was some guy in a red sweatshirt running like a madman into the woods." He shrugged, pointing off into the distance where the trees were thickest. "I thought maybe he was just some bum who slept off his hangover on our loading platform. It wouldn't be the first time that happened."

"What else do you remember besides the red sweatshirt? Race, features, build, anything?"

The manager chewed his lip thoughtfully, exposing teeth blackened from a lifetime of chewing tobacco. "No, I saw him from behind. Though, he had really long black hair, in a ponytail, and he was kind of short. About your height."

Dusting the railroad tracks for prints, Lindsay smiled as she saw the brief look of annoyance pass over Danny's face from the unintentional insult. His masculinity was certainly taking a beating this morning. He, however, brushed off the slight and turned to the conductor.

The man had witnessed an unspeakable horror, but was impatient and uncooperative. "Look, I told my story to four different cops already," he drawled, spitting a wad of chewing tobacco onto the ground. "Can I get going now? I have to get this load to Akron or my ass is on the line."

"Easy, Buddy," Danny countered, gesturing to the body that was being loaded into two separate body bags. "Right now, we've got something more important on the line. I have a couple more questions for you...".

Lindsay wandered away from the group of men, their voices fading behind her. She began snapping pictures of the blood-spattered front of the locomotive. It was a typical freight train: black engine car in the front, with an endless line of windowless boxcars behind it. As she stepped back several feet to examine the engine, she noticed an open door on the fourth car of the train. That struck her as unusual, because this had been an emergency stop. No cargo was due to be loaded or unloaded. Trading her camera for her kit, she walked over to the car and peered in. Curiously, a clump of dirt and gravel was on the ledge. Lindsay ran her gloved finger over it; it was damp and fresh. _Someone was in here_, she thought. While all the attention was focused elsewhere, someone had snuck in, for some reason.

She considered getting Danny before going further, but she could see he was still in an intense discussion with several station workers. The conductor had disappeared. There was no reason why she couldn't just hop in and take a quick look for herself. First, she tossed her kit up on the ledge, then climbed up.

Instantly, she grappled for her flashlight – the inside was dark beyond dark. The beam of light picked up floating dust particles, a thin layer of straw on the floor, and a mysterious pile of clutter in one corner. She crept closer to inspect it. As her flashlight beam fell across the bundle of items, she knew she had just struck gold.

"Bingo," she breathed, gently prodding and poking the items.

Documenting and processing the things she had found would take some time, so she figured she should call Danny for help after all. This was big. Peering out the door, she saw he was finishing up his questioning of the last station employee. Perfect timing.

"Hey, Danny!" she shouted. "I have something here I think you need to see."

----

Stan Cleaver was normally a patient man, but today was proving to be a rotten day. Not only had he indirectly sawed a guy in half, but he was going to be late with his delivery. That meant another warning to his record, making his third, and that would result in a dock in pay. He needed to get a move on.

"Damn cops," he muttered. The body had been taken away by the coroner, nothing remained on the track. No one had approached him for at least fifteen minutes, so they were probably done with him anyway. The cocky detective with glasses had told him to stay put, but what would happen if he just _left_? He snorted with the realization that they sure couldn't stop a train with those 9mm pistols.

"To hell with this," he muttered to himself, and began walking back to the engine car. "I'm out of here."


	3. Chapter 3

Here is the next installment... thank you (as always) for the reviews, I'm always interested in hearing how you experience the story.

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**Chapter 3**

"I was wondering where you'd wandered off to," Danny remarked, hopping up to join Lindsay in the boxcar. When he heard her call, he had come running, leaving his kit behind.

"I saw the door of this car open," Lindsay explained animatedly, "and thought I should take a look. There was fresh dirt on the ledge, like someone had been inside. It turned out to be a lucky break." She realized she was babbling, and tried to calm herself. This was what she _lived_ to do – find answers, follow clues, solve crimes. Her enthusiasm was never more evident than when a case was about to break wide open.

Danny pulled out his flashlight and shined it in the direction of the odd pile Lindsay was pointing to. "What's all this?" he asked.

A ratty black tote bag lay unzipped, revealing its contents: two boxes of granola bars, several bottles of water, a quart of Wild Turkey, and a leather wallet. Further down was a new fleece blanket, still shrink-wrapped in plastic. Tossed nearby was the item that had initially caught Lindsay's eye: a red hooded sweatshirt.

"Looks like someone was planning on escaping as a stowaway," he murmured. "Our killer?"

Lindsay nodded. "Or at least a person of interest. I thought I should wait for you before I check out the bag contents any more."

Danny squatted down and reached into the bag. Opening the wallet, he produced a Vermont drivers license. "Hello, Cory Abrams," he said, passing it to Lindsay for inspection.

Using her flashlight to examine the tiny photo, she saw that Abrams fit the description of the person seen fleeing the station earlier that morning: long dark hair, about 5'7", 20 years old. Could this timid looking young man really be a sadistic murderer?

"Well, if he is planning on making a getaway, he's probably going to return any second," she pointed out. "Let's get this stuff bagged and get out of here. We can watch outside for him to come back--"

"Then nail the sucker," Danny finished. "Nice work, Montana. If we get this wrapped up in time, lunch is on me."

"Deal," she grinned, savoring the satisfaction of her find. After the day's rough start, she could now look forward to returning to the city and enjoying a leisurely meal with Danny. "Why don't you go get Wyndham?" she suggested. "I'll start bagging everything."

Before Danny could respond, a shadow crossed their flashlight beams. Hearing a noise in the door of the boxcar, they both swung instinctively. Standing before them was the very man in the drivers license photo. He stared at them, unmoving, frozen in wild-eyed shock.

As Danny and Lindsay clamored for their guns, they failed to notice the rumbling of the train engine several cars ahead.

"Freeze! NYPD!" Danny shouted, shifting his body slightly so that he shielded Lindsay. "Show us your hands. Mr. Abrams, right? You all ready to go on a camping trip here, or what?"

"You're trapped now, Cory," Lindsay added smoothly, keeping her aim on his wobbly body. "There are no options left. Just tell us what happened here this morning."

Cory opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, but instead took a sudden step backwards. Clinging to the outside of the train, he began to slide the door closed.

"NO!" Lindsay screamed. She watched in horrified slow-motion as the door rattled shut, trapping her and Danny in complete and utter blackness.

Then the train began to move.

---

"Whoa! What is he doing?" snapped Wyndham to no on in particular. Smoke was pouring out of the train as it began chugging along, rapidly increasing in speed. He jogged over to the station building and poked his head in the door.

"What the hell?" he asked, jerking his thumb towards the locomotive.

The manager shrugged his shoulders helplessly, unconcerned. "I have no idea. We didn't clear him to leave yet."

Wyndham checked his watch. There was no way to stop the train now, and he had done pretty much all he could do for the day. He needed to get back to the station and file his report for this gruesome crime – perhaps the worst he had seen in his seventeen years on the job. He figured he should touch base with the two CSI's before he left, but strangely, they were nowhere in sight. His best guess was that they had wandered into the thick woods, on a trail of some clues. It wouldn't hurt to wait a few more minutes for them to return. For now, he went off in search of a coffee pot within the decrepit train station, humming lightly under his breath.

---

Lindsay and Danny pounded their fists on the wall of the boxcar frantically, yelling until their voices grew hoarse. Any noise they made was drowned out by the clattering tracks. The train was picking up speed at a dizzying rate, making it nearly impossible to remain standing.

Lindsay knelt down and fumbled for her flashlight, which had fallen from her grip when she grabbed her gun earlier. Finally retrieving it, she flipped it on and aimed it towards the door, where Danny was tugging desperately.

"We have to try to slide it open," he told her, half grunting and half shouting. "Help me out!"

Lindsay hesitated. They hadn't yet considered what the next step would be, even if they could get the door open: the train was going much too fast for them to escape. Still, in a half-hearted attempt to appease Danny, she jumped up and threw her weight into pushing the door. It wouldn't budge.

"It latches on the outside," Danny growled. "The son of a bitch got us _good_."

"Get your cell phone!" Lindsay cried suddenly, retrieving hers from her pocket. "We'll call Wyndham, tell him to radio the conductor."

Danny opened his own phone, then in unison, they both moaned.

"We can't get a signal up here in the mountains." Danny kicked a tuft of dirt in frustration. "That's why we didn't get a call from Mac to see why we were late—we couldn't get _any_ calls."

Realizing the severity of the situation, Lindsay sank to the floor, putting her head in her hands. "Oh, God, Danny," she whispered. "Our perp just got away. Any evidence that could convict him is right here with us. And…" she gulped, then paused, afraid to go on. It was like the superstition of nightmares told before breakfast—voicing them would make them become reality.

She finished with a shaky breath. "And no one knows we're here."

---

Having polished off two Styrofoam cups of sludge-like coffee, Wyndham was now more than ready to head back to the city. Still, the CSI's hadn't returned. He wandered around the scene, speaking to several of the uniformed officers who were finishing up their duties.

"You seen Monroe or Messer?" he asked each one he encountered. All he got was a shake of the head. Negative. No one had seen them in over twenty minutes, and from what little information Wyndham gathered, the conductor had been the last person seen talking to Danny. The conductor who was already miles away, of course.

He sighed and crossed his arms, surveying the woods around him. They were sinister and shadowy, despite the mid-morning hour, and he had a bad feeling. After many years in this field, he had learned to listen to his gut. The ominous scenery only added to his sense of dread: something was definitely amiss.

In his car, he made the call on his radio, crackly but still functioning.

"Call Mac Taylor," he told headquarters. "Tell him two of his CSI's have disappeared."

---

The train was rapidly disappearing into the mountains, heading west toward Pennsylvania. Inside the fourth car in line, all was silent, cold, and dark. They had given up trying to find an immediate solution. They were prisoners of the train, helpless to the speed and power.

"What the hell are we going to do now?" Lindsay whimpered.

The lonely whistle of the train was her only answer.


	4. Chapter 4

Here is the latest update, at last. :) Please bear with me - the DL stuff gets better and more intense SOON - chapter 6 or so. I swear! Fluffiness to come shortly.

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**Chapter 4**

"Where is this thing going?"

Lindsay rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe Danny had just asked her that—how could she possibly know?

"You tell me," she said tartly. "You talked to the conductor." The more the bleakness of their situation dawned on them, the shorter their tempers grew, causing them to snap at each other unapologetically.

"Yeah, sure, I talked to the conductor. Then you called me up here to the penthouse suite," he replied sarcastically.

"Are you saying this is all my fault?" Lindsay accused. She was seated in the corner on a bed of dusty straw, hugging her knees to her chest, as Danny paced back and forth.

"No, of course not," he said, and threw up his hands in exasperation. "Look – bickering won't help us out of this mess. We have to work together… like we always have. We make a great team, right? We can get through this."

Lindsay nodded, suddenly exhausted. Danny had a point -- fighting would get them nowhere. Besides, there were countless nights she had dreamt of being alone with Danny, no matter what the situation. Maybe it was possible to make the best of this predicament.

"We should catalog the evidence," she suggested, rubbing her throbbing temples. "I have my kit, so we can bag and label the things from Abrams's bag."

"Good idea," Danny agreed. "That little bastard got away once, but we'll be ready to get him the second time around. If nothing else, it will give us something to do." He squatted down next to Lindsay, offering her a small smile that was tinged with apologies. "Truce?" he asked, holding out his hand to her.

She took it and squeezed it vigorously. "Truce." She sent up a small prayer of thanks that it was Danny here with her, and that she had not become trapped by herself.

With the tension behind them for now, they set to work, glad for the distraction of doing something productive. Lindsay pulled two fresh pairs of rubber gloves from her kit, and finagled a holder for the flashlights with a piece of wire she found nearby.

Digging through the pockets of the red sweatshirt, a filthy garment that smelled heavily of marijuana, she located a tiny gold key. "Look at this," she said, holding it up in the beam of light, dust particles dancing around it. "The key to the padlock that was on our vic's chains?"

"Looks like the right size," Danny murmured, taking it from her to deposit in an evidence bag. "It stinks in here," he added. "What were they hauling? Pigs?"

"Machinery, probably," Lindsay replied tiredly. Her knees hurt from kneeling on the rough wooden floor of the train.

After a few moments of silent concentration, Danny suddenly snapped his fingers. "That's right – Akron!"

"What?" Lindsay asked, puzzled.

"The _conductor_," Danny said. "He had a delivery to _Akron_. That's where this train is headed."

"Akron? As in, _Ohio_?!" Lindsay covered her face with her hands. Not that it mattered – it may have well been Alaska they were going to. She wasn't even sure she could survive another hour. Still, they plodded forward, tedious work being better than boredom.

Danny came to the last items in the bag—granola bars and bottled water. "Lindsay, we might be needing these things, depending on how long this joyride goes. I know s'mores and hot dogs would be more fitting, but this is the best we can do."

"We can't eat the evidence, Danny," she argued.

"So we'll save the wrappers. A jury isn't going to care whether Cory Abrams ate raisin or honey-oat granola bars."

"Yeah, I guess. Later. I can't think of food right now." She began thumbing through the envelopes of evidence they had collected, trying to focus on the crime, but it was no use. To complicate matters, the light from the two flashlights was growing fainter and fainter.

"We should turn them off, try to conserve the batteries," Lindsay sighed sadly. Danny merely nodded. She leaned over and clicked them off one at a time, carpeting them in inky blackness once again.

-----

Wyndham walked into Mac's office, his face grim.

"Good to see you again, Detective Taylor," he said as they shook hands. "I'm sorry it's under these circumstances."

Mac nodded, the worry written all over his leathery face. "Tell me what you know."

Wyndham read off his notepad, where he had jotted down every single piece of information. "They arrived to the scene around 9:15am, processed the body and the area, then interviewed the station manager and train conductor. That was the last anyone saw of them. Their department vehicle is still parked at the station. Messer's processing kit was found near the tracks. Monroe's is gone, so I'm thinking Messer followed her wherever she went."

"Any idea where they could have wandered off to?" Mac asked. "My detectives are thorough, were there any clues they were following away from the station?"

"I told them about a possible suspect seen fleeing the sight this morning; a guy in a red sweatshirt who ran into the woods just before the train hit the body. Maybe they found a trail into the woods, and now they're lost." He paused, tapping his fingers on Mac's desk. "How do you want to handle the case now?"

"We'll handle the forensics here. Hammerback's going to be doing the autopsy, I'll let you know when I get the report. For now, I'll send out a new team to look for any evidence Danny and Lindsay may have left behind. But anything important, they probably have with them, wherever they are."

Wyndham nodded. "We're still on the lookout for this guy in the red sweatshirt, I'll release the composite sketch to the press. We ID'd the victim as Harvey Parsons, age forty-nine. Get this, he works for a repossession company. That leads to a long list of potential enemies we'll be looking over."

Mac picked up his phone and began dialing. "I'm going to get a team to search those woods. If Danny and Lindsay went that way, hopefully they left some trace behind."

----

When Wyndham had left, and Mac hung up the phone a few minutes later, he noticed Stella and Hawkes waiting hesitantly outside his door. He waved them in.

"This is bad, isn't it?" Stella's voice registered her fear, the fear all three of them felt.

"We don't know anything about their whereabouts yet," Mac said firmly. He briefly filled them in on Wyndham's report. His voice softened, dropping an octave. "We can't rule out foul play, either, at this point."

Hawkes interjected, "Maybe they were kidnapped. Maybe they got close to the killer, and he took them hostage." Little did he realize how close his guess was to the truth.

Mac held up his hand. "Slow down. We're hoping they just got lost in the woods."

Stella looked horrified. "If they're lost in the woods, it gets below freezing at night… and there's _mountain lions_! We only have a couple of hours of daylight left to find them."

The group silenced, overwhelmed by anxieties.

"We have to hang on to that hope that they're okay," Hawkes said, then smiled softly, sadly. "And you know what? At least they're together."

Mac raised an eyebrow curiously. "What do you mean by that?"

"Come on, don't pretend you haven't noticed it," Hawkes replied, breaking into a grin at the thought of his colleagues. "Those two? They have something special going on. And you know what? I think as long as they stick together, they'll make it."


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for your comments so far - I'm enjoying them, as I hope you are enjoying the fic! ** Note: ** This chapter features a lot of case material, but from here on, there will not be as much. As I warned, this isn't truly a case fic - the pieces will fall together rather conveniently. The DL is the focus, of course. :P Chapter 6 will feature much more DL fluff, so I will probably upload it rather soon.

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**Chapter 5**

Boredom had settled over Danny and Lindsay, intense as the afternoon light outside the train. Seated several feet apart in the corner of the boxcar, they had given up any hope of productivity, conversation, or immediate escape. In fact, when the train began to gradually slow its speed, they were both staring into space, lost in thought.

Lindsay felt it first – a change in the vibration of the wheels as they clipped the track. A beat slower, a missing note in their harmony. She stiffened, now fully alert. "We're stopping," she gasped. "Danny, do you feel that?"

"We can't be in Akron already," Danny mumbled with a frown. "It's only been three hours."

They lapsed into silent wonder, holding their breath as the train slowed further and came to a full stop. They both stood shakily, legs wobbling from the cessation of movement beneath them.

"Do you know what this means?" Lindsay asked, nearly laughing out loud. "They've figured out we're on here—someone called and stopped the train! We're going to be _rescued_!"

"It's over!" Danny grinned at her. "Just in time, too. I don't think I could take this much longer."

Lindsay, unsure if she should take his comment as a slight, did not respond. _Is it being with me he is tired of?_ she wondered, then brushed the thought out of her mind before she could contemplate an answer. Instead, she turned on her flashlight, and they made their way to the sliding door. She was just glad this adventure was about to be over. Finally they could go back to solving the case after such an unwelcome detour.

"We're in here!" Lindsay called through a tiny crack. She knocked loudly on the wall, as Danny grasped the broken handle and tried to slide it open.

"Come _on, _already!" he shouted. "Somebody get us out of here!"

They continued this tactic for several anxious minutes, pausing to listen for any sounds outside, but no one came to their aid. Light knocking and calling out was not working, so when the hope faded and desperation took hold, they resorted to yelling and banging.

"_Help us!"_

"_Is anyone out there?"_

"_Please, somebody get us out!" _

"Dammit," Danny whispered, winded from pummeling madly against the walls. He pressed the side of his face against the door, listening for voices or other sounds outside.

"Can you hear anything?" Lindsay asked, pressing her face next to his, so close she could almost feel his breath on her cheek.

"No, I—"

Before Danny could finish, the train lurched backwards, sending Lindsay tumbling into him. He braced himself against the wall with one hand, and caught her around the waist with the other. Any embarrassment or even pleasure over the incident was washed away by the realization that they would not be escaping this time.

"Oh, no," Lindsay moaned. "I know what this is: they're just picking up more freight. We're backing up to attach another car. Then they'll just keep going."

In a ball of fury, Danny pulled away from her and pounded his fist angrily into the wall. "Son of a _bitch_!" he roared, kicking a tuft of straw with his foot.

Lindsay, startled by his sudden display of anger, began to back away, moving slowly and cautiously. She had never seen him that irate, that livid, that powerful—and it frightened her.

But the very instant he saw the fear in her eyes, illuminated by the beam of the flashlight, he softened.

"God, Lindsay, I'm sorry," he said, moving towards her and taking her arm. "I shouldn't have blown up like that."

She shook her head, still uncomfortable and hesitant. "Danny, you don't have to be strong for me. I know you're scared, too. It's okay."

Danny's grip on her arm tightened, yet in a most gentle manner. "It will be okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Abruptly he pulled her into a hug, an action that took Lindsay's breath away. Anytime he touched her, it put her in a trance. It always seemed to short-circuit her brain, as if her body was a magnet being drawn to him, a law of physics. Now, pressed to his chest, she felt helpless to the emotions burning inside her.

"_We'll_ be okay," he murmured, rubbing her back lightly with the palm of his hand. This embrace was providing them each with more comfort than they cared to admit.

When the train stopped once more, their eyes met, but Lindsay shook her head hopelessly. She knew what would happen, and she was right: the train lurched forward, picking up speed quickly, carrying them off once again into the unknown.

----

"Any news on our wayward investigators?"

Sid Hammerback looked up from the table where an assortment of body parts and bone splinters lay organized into rows. He looked hopeful as he waited for Hawkes' response.

"Nothing," Sheldon sighed.

"My money is still on elopement," Sid murmured.

Sheldon rolled his eyes, though a hint of a smile was evident. "Well, I'm _actually_ here to see if Mr. Parsons can give us some clues about his killer."

Sid cocked his head and grimaced. "Mr. Parsons is akin to Humpty Dumpty – and I'm still trying to put him back together again. Judging from the bruising on the wrists and thighs, your victim was struggling to free himself. He knew the train was coming."

"Was there anything in his blood to suggest he had been drugged?"

"Well, results showed a low amount of clonazepam, even though I didn't have much blood left to test," Sid replied. "If he wasn't taking the medication regularly, then he could have been drugged, but it would have been hours before he was brought to the train station. Most of the effects—grogginess, lethargy--would have worn off by the time he died. I can't tell if there was any trace in his liver, because… well, there was no liver left to test."

"So we don't have anything definitive, either way?"

"Well, these abrasions from the chains tell us he was conscious just before he died." Sid studied Sheldon's face. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Sheldon nodded, fighting off a shudder. "What an awful way to go."

-----

"Hey, Mac!"

As Mac made his way out of the break room, he heard his name, and turned to see Flack striding quickly down the hall. "What have you got, Don?" he asked.

"We got a tip on our Little Red Riding Hood of the train station," Flack replied.

Mac raised an eyebrow. "Flack, I thought you had a full case load? How do you have time to juggle this one?"

Flack shrugged off the question. "Never mind that. Anyway, Wyndham released the composite sketch to the media, and within an hour, he got a call from the owner of Hobbs' Hardware on 24th street. A cashier in the store remembered this guy, he went in two days ago to buy bicycle chains and padlocks. Same shirt, same greasy ponytail—they have him on surveillance camera. Paid in cash."

Mac sighed. It was a start-- a step forward in locating the sick bastard responsible for Parsons' death, and perhaps the disappearance of his detectives. "Good, good," he said. "We've got to find this guy, and quick. I want to find out what he knows about Lindsay and Danny's disappearance."

"I'm going to cross-reference the photo with the list of people Parsons dealt with in the repo firm," Flack explained. "If I can narrow it down to some males of the same age, maybe we can get a name on this guy. And once we find him, maybe we can find Lindsay and Danny."

"Keep me posted," Mac said. "I'm waiting to hear if there were any clues at the station that might pinpoint the direction they went when they disappeared."

As Flack turned to leave, Mac held out his hand to stop him. "Oh… Flack? Thanks."

Flack shrugged, smiling sadly. "What else is there to do? Lindsay and Danny wouldn't want us to give up on this case. When they get back here—which they _will_—I want to have this wrapped up. We've got to crack it—_for them_."


	6. Chapter 6

Here we go - a chapter full of nothing but DL fluff. :) I hope it is as enjoyable to read as it was to write!

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**Chapter 6**

It was quiet on the train, the only sound being the steady rumbling and clacking from the track below. Frigid mountain air rushed in through the cracks of the walls. Where determination had once been, now there was resignation and exhaustion. Night had fallen, they sat in the dark; Danny's flashlight batteries had died during a half-hearted game of tic tac toe on the dusty wall. Lindsay was saving hers for a more urgent time, should they need it. The only source of light came from the neon blue glow that briefly flashed when Danny checked his watch.

"It's just after nine," he remarked, his voice traveling the few feet between them, punctuating the silence.

"Time flies when you're having fun," Lindsay remarked dryly, shifting uncomfortably. The wooden floor was hard and cold, despite the cushion she had tried to make from musty straw. She felt colder than she could ever remember feeling. She tried visualizing, hoping to trick her body into warming up: a roaring fireplace, a steamy sauna, bare feet on summer pavement. None of it worked. It was going to be a long night, miles and miles away from her cozy bed at home in New York. She hated not knowing where she was, she hated the lack of control she felt. In a way, she and Danny were also the victims of Cory Abrams and the power of the locomotive.

"You know, Montana," Danny said, a hint of joviality remarkably still in his voice, "we could crack open that bottle of Wild Turkey, maybe it would help pass the time, lighten the mood a bit."

"Very funny, Danny," she mumbled. "I feel bad enough we're using the water and granola bars."

"Consider it Cory Abrams' thank-you gift for letting him get away. The department can bill me later. Besides, we're about to open up something else." She heard him fumbling around in the dark, then the crinkling of a plastic bag being torn open: the blanket Abrams had bought for his planned journey.

"It's cold, Linds, come over here and we'll share this tonight."

"No." There was not a smidgeon of doubt in her mind, that could _not_ happen.

"Don't be stubborn," he prodded. "We'll be warmer if we're together."

"I said no."

"Fine," he replied breezily, and she heard him unfolding and fluffing out the blanket. "Mmm. It sure is nice and warm."

Lindsay bit her lip, glad it was too dark for him to see the hesitation on her face. As tempting as it was—she was freezing--cuddling up under a blanket with Danny was just not a good idea. She couldn't let herself get carried away, physically or mentally. The fear was making her vulnerable enough, so for the rest of this experience, she needed to keep her wits about her.

Danny, however, was not going to leave her alone. "Look, I don't bite, unless you're into that sort of thing. There's just this one blanket, and if you freeze to death, who's going to keep me company on this ride?"

Lindsay groaned, the temperature of her body superseding any common sense that may have voiced an objection. "Okay." She popped on her flashlight long enough to crawl next to Danny and slip under the blanket. He had balled up his coat to make a pillow, she did the same. Then, with a click, they were returned to darkness. To her surprise, but not necessarily her disappointment, Danny put his arm around her. She was surprised how easy it was, situating herself in this semi-embrace of his, being close to him. She was grateful for the curtain of black, which prevented him from seeing the slight smile that crept onto her face.

"You nice and toasty now?" he inquired lightly, his head tilting to the side and nearly touching her own.

"It feels much better," she admitted. The blanket succeeded in blocking out the drafts while containing their mingling body heat. It was perhaps the most comfortable she had been all day. She felt her muscles finally begin to relax, releasing the tension. Somehow, Danny always managed to tame the beasts within her. So despite the uncomfortable floor, the smell of dirty straw, and pricks of icy air slipping through the cracks, things weren't entirely terrible. There were many worse places to be than nestled up to Danny Messer. From the comfort of his arms, the world didn't look quite so glum.

She knew she shouldn't, but her fingers had a mind of their own: they traveled across Danny's biceps, savoring their firmness and warmth, exploring every angle as she casually stroked his arm. He was quiet, and she wondered if perhaps it made him uncomfortable, so she decided to try conversation instead. "I use to love the sounds of a train. Back home, it was always so cozy, to hear the whistle a few miles away on a rainy night."

"Do you miss it?" he asked. "Living in the country?"

Lindsay shook her head, requiring no time for consideration of an answer. "No way. It was the best decision I've ever made. I love so many thing about New York." _Like you_, she wanted to add, but thought better of it. "Hey, this is just like camping!"

"Trust me, this is way worse than camping," Danny muttered. "Too bad we can't build a fire and tell some ghosts stories."

Lindsay burst into a fit of unexpected laughter. "_You've_ gone camping? Danny Messer, sleeping outside in the wilderness, washing dishes in a creek?" The image was just too deliciously hilarious.

"What, you think I can't hack it? Real funny." He gave her a gentle, playful squeeze. "I went camping with my brother and old man a few times, mandatory male bonding over beer and trout. I went because I had to… I never said I _liked_ it."

Lindsay smiled. "Maybe I'll take you some time. Show you what real camping is like."

"You're on." Danny smoothed her hair with his palm, a gesture so affectionate it nearly stopped her breath. "We should try to sleep," he added. "Rest up, so we can figure a way out of here in the morning. If nothing else, it will help pass the time."

Lindsay nodded, the warmth from both the blanket and Danny's body making her drowsy.

"I'm glad you're here," she said softly.

Danny's reply, whispered into her ear, sent a tingle down to her toes. "I'll take that as a compliment."

They settled into silence, lost in thoughts of their own, countless feelings running through them. Lindsay could no longer look at the logistics, she was at last content to simply rest with Danny. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, along with the subtle swaying of the train, soon rocked her into a deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for the delay in updating - there have not been enough hours in the day lately!

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**Chapter 7**

Rays of morning light were peeping through the cracks of the boxcar walls when Lindsay opened her eyes. Danny had been awake first, and as she stirred, he shifted his head to look down at her.

"Good morning, Sunshine," he said. Despite the words' teasing intent, his voice was tender.

She felt groggy and confused, and it took a moment for her situation to register, for her to realize why she wasn't in her own soft bed. Amazingly, she had slept through the night without waking, something that almost never occurred. Was it possible that the security of being in Danny's arms had chased away the nightmares?

"Where are we?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

Danny shrugged, a movement that caused the hairs on his arm to brush the back of her neck. "I don't know, I didn't pack the GPS. I think a little mystery is romantic, don't you?"

_Getting lost in the mountains. The body on the tracks. The open boxcar door. Cory Abrams_. The series of recollections pummeled her mind like a hailstorm. She was stunned into silence for a moment.

"Your leg twitches in your sleep, you know," Danny continued. "It's kind of cute. And you talk."

"I do _not_ talk in my sleep," Lindsay huffed.

"You do."

"Oh yeah? What did I say?" she demanded.

Danny smirked, his eyes twinkling playfully. "Now wouldn't you like to know!"

Lindsay laughed, but then was suddenly aware of the filthy straw beneath her, and the fact that she had been wearing the same clothes for over a day. "I want a shower," she sighed wistfully.

"Good luck," he snorted. "I want a cheeseburger."

"Hot chocolate… with whipped cream," she countered.

"Coffee."

"My soft bed, with a down comforter."

"Your bed."

Lindsay laughed and poked his arm. _"Danny!"_

"Sorry. Okay, uh… pizza."

"A warm sweatshirt."

"French fries."

"Pie."

"Baseball game on the tube."

"Chinese food."

They both groaned in unison at the lack of probability of their desires happening any time soon. Not feeling particularly motivated to rise, Lindsay squirmed closer against Danny's chest, burying her face into the crook of his neck. It was her favorite spot, if in fact she could lay claim to any part of his body. His shoulder was solidly muscular, and his skin smelled so good. Normally she would be aghast at allowing herself so much physical contact because of the inevitable temptation that would arise with it, but the situation they were in had depleted her sense of pride and stubborn resistance. The adrenaline of the first day had been depleted, making it harder to think logically.

"Mmmgrrmph," she muttered. This felt so good. "Can we stay this way for a little while longer, just like this?" she pleaded shyly.

Danny chuckled. "Fine by me. It's not like we have anywhere else to go."

She fiddled with the zipper on his jacket thoughtfully. "What are we going to do, Danny?" she asked, her voice quavering. She looked at him, trying to read his expression. His face had grown stubbly with the lack of a shave.

"We don't really have a choice," he pointed out. "We're riding in a speeding train that we can't stop." She felt his thumb moving slightly over her shoulder, a subtle yet involuntary caress. "We'll get out of here. I promise."

She sighed, glad for his company but not sure how to voice it. "I'll buy you that cheeseburger, when this is all over with."

"It's a date, Montana. Count me in."

--

Countless miles behind them in the crime lab, the mood was more somber, less hopeful. Mac had summoned the team for a brainstorming session about Lindsay and Danny's possible whereabouts. Four long faces sat around the conference table, gripping coffee mugs and ink pens.

"We finally have an ID on the guy seen fleeing the train station yesterday morning," Flack announced. "The name is Cory Abrams, 21, a native of New Hampshire. Chances are, he's our killer, and he knows something about what happened to Danny and Lindsay."

"We'll find him," Stella said firmly. "And once we do, he _will_ tell us where they are. I've got a gut feeling he's involved. _I'll_ get some answers out of him."

"We've got the arrest warrant, and we put out an APB with the highway patrols and law enforcement in every county between here and Concord," Flack offered. "It's just a matter of time."

Mac rubbed his temples, wincing. The stress was beginning to wear on him – he was in charge of running the entire department, while two of his brightest young detectives were lost and probably in danger. "How about motive?" he asked Flack. "Any idea why he would have wanted to kill Mr. Parsons?"

"Parsons was in the repossession business. Abrams apparently had a 2005 Pontiac Sunfire that was seized for default of payment, by the victim's firm, about six weeks ago. He caused a big fuss when Parsons tried to take the car, they had to call in the cops."

Mac nodded. "So he was holding a grudge, a serious one."

Flack raised a finger. "The icing on the cake is: Abrams lives with his mother, who was prescribed _clonazepam _by her doctor."

"The drug found in our vic's system," Hawkes realized aloud.

"We've got the motive, the witnesses, proof that he bought the chains and locks, and now the drug link," Stella said. "Until we find Danny and Lindsay, and any evidence they collected from the crime scene.. that should be enough to hold Abrams."

"If we could just find him," Mac added.

"But I still don't see the connection to Danny and Lindsay," Hawkes interjected. "Could it be kidnapping?"

Stella spoke up. "If they were kidnapped, we would have heard something by now. There would have been some sort of contact, like a ransom demand or a request for clemency." Eliminating the kidnapping theory left a much more morbid possibility on the table, but no one wanted to speak the words.

"Until we nail down Abrams, there isn't much we can do," Mac sighed. "I'm sending over Danny and Lindsay's lab coats, for the…" his voice faltered, "for the search dogs."

--

"Come on, Bruno, do your stuff. Tell me where she is, boy."

Doug Gillian was urging on his search-and-rescue trained Bloodhound, pressing a plastic wrapped lab coat under the dog's nose. He opened it just enough for Bruno to get the scent, and hopefully pick up a trail. They were one of two K-9 teams searching the train station area. It was a warm afternoon with no breeze; ideal for man trailing.

Bruno did his usual pacing, nose the ground, trying to determine this particular scent from the many others. When his tail went up, and he pulled hard on his lead, Gillian knew they were on to something.

"Let's go, buddy!" he urged the canine. Bruno led him about thirty yards down the railroad tracks, then up the bank directly to the tracks themselves. He stopped and looked up at his owner, deep brown eyes explaining that he had lost the scent, but still expected a treat. As Gillian fumbled in his pocket for a piece of beef jerky, another team joined them.

Melinda Evans and her own Bloodhound, Tessa, had followed Danny's scent to this exact spot.

Gillian frowned thoughtfully. "It's like they walked up to the tracks, and then just disappeared."

Melinda snapped her fingers. "That's it – what the dogs are trying to tell us. The reason they lost the scent is because these people boarded the train!"


	8. Chapter 8

**CAUTION:** Major sappy fluff ahead!

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**Chapter 8**

Mac was working with Stella in the reconstruction lab when his cell rang. The shrill sound of it had caused both of them to jump. The entire lab was riddled with tension. He snapped it up open quickly. "Wyndham, tell me you have something?"

"I do," Wyndham replied. "The search dogs trailed scents for both of your detectives, in the same direction. They followed the trail right up to the tracks, then stopped. It appears Messer and Monroe boarded one of the cars. The train left before it was cleared to go yesterday morning. It's likely they were in there when it did."

Mac felt an enormous wave of relief wash over him. If this was truly the case, then Danny and Lindsay were most likely alive. Cold, tired, and hungry; but _alive_.

"We're trying to find them," Wyndham went on, "but it's not easy. Can you trace the train's route and see if it made any stops? We know it's headed to Akron, but we have to find out where it is now, and locate a station for an emergency stop."

Mac gave Stella the thumbs up sign as he replied to Wyndham. "We'll get right on it. We need to stop that train."

--

Twenty minutes later, Stella and Hawkes sat clustered in front of a computer terminal, scrolling through a series of maps and charts.

"According to this schedule, after the train left the station yesterday morning, it stopped to pickup more cargo in Newark, only a few hours later," Hawkes mused. "So, given the rate of speed and the rail line they are on, it looks like they should be somewhere between Williamsport and Lock Haven right now."

Stella squinted at the map on screen, tracing her finger over the route thoughtfully. She reached for the phone. "I'll call the station at Clearfield, and tell them to expect the train. The controller can radio the conductor and get him to stop." She grinned. "Let's get our kids home!"

--

Evening had settled just as Lindsay woke up from her third nap of the day. She had never known just how truly exhausting boredom could be. Danny, too, had dozed off several times, but now she noticed that he was not by her side. She sat up, rubbing her eyes groggily. Despite the dark, she could see his shadow a few feet away.

"Help me with this, will ya?" Danny grunted as he threw his entire weight against the door of the car. Though it groaned and rattled, it would not open.

"Why bother?" asked Lindsay quietly, despondent. Their previous attempts at breaking out hadn't been successful. Even if they could open the door, what could they possibly do until the train stopped again? She was more concerned with the blast of cold air they would be exposed to.

But Danny was looking at her so determinedly, so pleadingly, that she couldn't resist helping him. She fumbled for her flashlight, using its weak beam only long enough to make her way to the door.

"You push, I'll pull," Lindsay instructed. "One, two, _three_!" And with all her might, she pulled. She pulled until the muscles in her upper body felt as if they were on fire. On the second try, they managed to wriggle the door open, almost wide enough for one person to get through.

"Now what?" Lindsay shouted, her voice almost carried away by the roaring of the wind mere inches away.

Danny looked at her, steeling himself to the reaction she would obviously have to his suggestion. "A little more, and we can jump."

Lindsay's jaw dropped. "Oh, no," she said.

"We'll hold hands, do it together," he prompted. There's nothing but fields around us right now, we'll land in the grass."

The countryside was nothing but a blur of darkness, how could she trust just to leap out? "No way, Danny. We could get hurt… killed, even."

Danny shook his head, impatient, his eyes nearly wild with frustration. "We'll be fine. I'd rather have a few bruises than be stuck in this car any longer."

Lindsay winced. What remained of her composure was fast dwindling away. "Being stuck with me is that terrible?" she snapped, emotions rushing to the surface before she could bottle them.

Danny groaned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it." He rubbed his head. "I'm jumping, so either you're going with me, or you'll be left behind."

That was it for Lindsay. A threat of being left alone, and the tears began to flow – tears of rage, tears of panic, tears of hurt. "So that's it?" she yelled at him, half choking on a sob. "You're just going to jump out there, maybe killing yourself in the process, leaving me alone? Not caring about me?"

Danny, however, was equally as agitated. "Not caring? You think I don't _care_?" he demanded. "Dammit, Lindsay, haven't I been trying so hard to show you just how _much_ I care? Exactly how I feel for you? What more do I have to do to show you that I just want to be with you?" He leaned against the wall, sliding down to a sitting position. "That's the problem," he added, his tone softer. "You're afraid, you're too afraid to take that leap."

Lindsay was stunned into silence, unable to speak. They had just gone from arguing about a train, to arguing about their relationship. The thing was, Danny was right: since the day she met him, her emotions had been swept away, speeding down the tracks, making her a helpless prisoner. She had fought every twist and turn, riding it out, avoiding what scared her the most.

Now, here she was, vulnerable without being able to escape, and he could read her. Everything came into sharp focus. In order to have what she really wanted—a true relationship with him—she needed to gather her courage, close her eyes, and jump.

"What are you so afraid of?" he pressed.

She inhaled shakily, the breath rattling in her lungs as she tried to stop the tears. "Losing you. Losing _this_," she said.

Her eyes grew bigger as Danny approached, stepping so close that she could feel his breath on her face. "Tell me," he whispered. "Tell me what _this_ is." He dropped his hands to her side, his fingers wrapping around hers.

She looked at him, the whites of his eyes most intense in the dark. "What we have between us," she finally uttered. "Don't you see? Once we take that step, Danny, all that's left to do is wait for something to go wrong. I'd rather stay in limbo than risk not having this… _connection_ that we have." She never knew that _wanting_ could hurt so much.

"Staying put isn't going to help us out," Danny gently pointed out. "Just like this damn train, Lindsay. We stay where we are, we'll never know what might have happened. We jump—sure, we might get hurt. But it could be the best decision we've ever made. I don't know about you, but me… I can't live with the not knowing."

After a moment of silence, he went on. "Look, for thirty-two years, my life was a big puzzle. Then the day you showed up, it's like all those missing pieces finally fell into place. You're what I want, and I'm not giving up on you." He cupped her chin tenderly, this thumb stroking a light path over her jaw line. "Talk to me, Montana," he coaxed. "Tell me what you want."

"I want to be with you," she sighed, weakening as usual at the sound of her nickname. Her life was pretty good, but she knew that having Danny in it could make it really special. "I'm just afraid of it all going wrong."

"But what if it _doesn't_ go wrong? We could waste our whole lives being afraid of the bad, and miss out on so much good."

She opened her mouth to try to form a response, but Danny cut her off with an unexpected kiss. A kiss so soft, yet so commanding. Her arms automatically moved as if they were attached to puppet strings, circling his neck, drawing him closer to her. He was all she could taste, all she could breathe. The kiss was slow and easy, like a hammock being rocked by the breeze on a summer afternoon.

And then suddenly, sharply, she jerked away from him, breaking contact. But it was not for lack of wanting.

"Danny," she said hoarsely, her knees beginning to tremble.

The train was stopping.


	9. Chapter 9

Okay, after this, one more chapter left:D Thanks everyone for your kind words (which always humble me) and for sticking with the story this long.

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**Chapter 9**

They stood perfectly still, not even daring to whisper, breaths coming out in puffs in the frigid night air. The train had shuddered to a halt, and now they could hear voices and vehicle motors through the partially-open door. Was this for real? Was the ordeal finally over? Yesterday's false alarm left them a little afraid to hope, but too desperate not to.

One voice stood out among the others, growing louder and closer. With a rumble, the door slid open the rest of the way. An intense beam of light shone in, reflecting off the badges they had never removed. Both Danny and Lindsay blinked and shielded their eyes, blinded momentarily. A short, pudgy man with a head of thick white hair smiled at them, then turned to speak to someone down on the ground.

"Get Detective Taylor on the phone," he called. "I think we just found his detectives."

Still cautious, not quite believing their luck, Lindsay and Danny just stared. The man said, "I'm Sheriff Wolsey. Sorry to interrupt your trip, but you've had a lot of people worried about you."

"_Sorry_? I've never been so happy to see someone in my life," Danny breathed, stepping forward at last. He turned back to take Lindsay's arm, escorting her to the door. She grasped his elbow, feeling as though they had just landed on another planet, where he was the only person she believed was real.

The Sheriff jumped down onto the tracks below, then reached up to give Danny a hand. Both men assisted Lindsay, who felt her knees falter from both exhaustion and relief. She half-leapt and half-collapsed, Danny catching her before she fell on to the ground. She clung to his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. It was as if every ounce of strength she possessed, both physical and mental, had melted away. She was simply content to be held by him.

"I've got you," he whispered softly in her ear. He set her down gently, not totally releasing her until she was steady on her own feet.

A group of various people instantly encircled them, a cocoon of goodwill. They handed out mugs of hot tea and spare gloves, murmuring their concern. An elderly woman draped a blanket over Lindsay's trembling shoulders. Multiple police officers were milling about, jotting down notes and taking photos of the train.

"We're actually part of the crime scene this time," Danny whispered.

"There's evidence in there," Lindsay told one of the cops, nodding towards the train. "It's from our suspect in the New York railroad murder. We have fibers, even his ID is in there."

"He's the one who locked us in there," Danny joined in. "Cory Abrams. We thought we had him nailed, but he got the last word."

Wolsey spoke up. "You don't have to worry about him anymore. Detective Wyndham nailed the guy—Abrams was apprehended about an hour ago in Massachusetts. There was a lot of great detective work, even without the evidence you collected. You've got a bunch of people who were rallying to find the killer _and_ you." He then excused himself, going to take a phone call.

A crowd of onlookers stood nearby, small-town people who were excited by the unexpected visitors. It had begun to mist; not yet a full-fledged rain shower, giving a ghostly appearance to the dim railway yard.

"Where the hell did we end up?" Danny asked to no one in particular.

"Welcome to Clearfield, Pennsylvania," replied the woman who had given Lindsay the blanket. "You've been quite the interesting story for this town!" As if on cue, a flash of light and whir of a camera shutter interrupted them. "Looks like you'll be making the front page of the Clearfield Gazette."

Danny squeezed Lindsay around the waist. "Not quite Akron, huh?" They shared a private smile. Every hour on the train had seemed like days, it was amazing they had not reached the Pacific ocean.

In a sudden blur of grimy sweat and tobacco juice, Stan Cleaver came bustling up to them. "This is the second time you've interrupted my run," he snarled. "Do you know how much your carelessness is going to cost me?"

Danny stepped forward, clenching his fists. "Not nearly as much as it could have cost _us_," he hissed. "You weren't cleared to leave the station. You could have injured any number of investigators. I think a dock in pay is the least of your worries right now." Cleaver only glowered in response, as he was escorted off by an officer.

Lindsay waved Wolsey back over to them. "How did you find us?" she asked. Her curiosity had grown as her shock faded. Surely it couldn't have been easy to figure out what had happened to them.

He winked, and handed her the telephone on which he had been speaking. "He'll tell you."

Lindsay tentatively pressed the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry, Lindsay, but we really can't afford to have you using up your vacation time right now."

"Mac!" She smiled, it was good to hear her boss's voice.

"Are you two okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine." She repeated the question from earlier. "So, how did you find us?"

"You were tracked down by a pair of four-year-olds with long ears, wrinkly faces, and a penchant for drooling."

Lindsay chuckled. She noticed Danny listening intently, so she muffled the receiver with her palm, and mouthed the answer, "search dogs."

Mac went on. "They followed your scents right to the track, where it faded. Wyndham let us know, and Stella and Hawkes narrowed down the location of the train. We've been working night and day on finding you, the whole team."

Despite the damp chill, Lindsay was enveloped with a warm glow. These people were far more than coworkers, they were family. "Thank them for me, Mac," she said, then thought of Danny. "Thank them for _us_."

"I will. Speaking of, I expect you two took good care of each other?" Mac's voice was tinged with a teasing air.

"We did," she replied. "We managed pretty well, I think." She danced around the truth, knowing that the blush was likely just as evident in her voice as it was on her cheeks.

"Get yourselves home. I had better not see you back in the lab until the day after tomorrow. Rest up, get some sleep."

"We will, thanks Mac." Lindsay pressed the 'end' button, and handed the phone back to Wolsey.

"You two ready to go home?" he asked, laughing at the resounding "YES!" he received from both of them.

A highway patrol officer approached, nodding politely. "I hear we have some people needing a lift to the Big Apple," he said.

"Please, not in a train," Lindsay begged, not even joking a little. She hoped to never see one ever again.

Wolsey laughed. "No, Officer Brereton here will transport you to the local airport, and you'll get a commuter flight back to Manhattan. You'll be home in about two hours. How's that sound?"

Lindsay smiled hugely. "Wonderful." All she could concentrate on was the idea of a hot shower, a warm dinner, and her soft, inviting bed.

They said brief thank-yous and goodbyes to the people who had helped them, then followed the patrolman to his car, arm in arm. Danny first opened the door for Lindsay, and she slid across to the opposite side. When he got in, however, her yearning for closeness made her shift to the center seat. The dark divider between the front and back seats granted them blessed privacy.

Warming up thanks to the blankets and tea and each other, they settled back in their seats, watching out the window as the train – their rusty prison – was left behind forever. The stars above Clearfield seemed to illuminate the station with a spotlight, as if it had merely been a stage production, and not a life-changing event. A moment frozen in time, a piece of reality transformed to fiction. In that moment, Lindsay had a realization about courage: sometimes the hardest part was making the decision to act, not the act itself.

She settled her chin on Danny's shoulder, cocking her head to the side and gazing up at him. It was time. "Is it too late to make that jump?" she whispered.

He tilted his head to bump her nose with his, nuzzling. "I promise to catch you."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **_ First, I apologize for the late update. I must say, the interview with Carmine from last night really did a number on my plot bunnies. They are slowly coming out of hiding now, however. Still, I wasn't quite "feeling it", hence the shorter chapter. Thanks to each and every one of you who read, and took the time to give feedback. This fic was a great experience for me because I was able to kick back and concentrate on story telling, rather than my usual emo-writing. It may not be my best, but it made me love writing again.   
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_ If you are reading this, and you love D/L (which obviously you do)_ **then don't forget to sign the "I Support D/L" petition**!!! _Many of you already have, I'm sure, but check my profile for the link. It's time to let TPTB know how many fans are out there!  
_

_Here we go... one last spin on the 'train'! _

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**Chapter 10**

"Hurry up, Danny, the food's getting cold!"

Lindsay was perched in bed, wearing the 'I ♥ Montana' sweatshirt she had given Danny for his birthday. Stretched from lots of use, and being too large for her anyway, it draped off one shoulder. In front of her, delicately balanced on top of the comforter, was a virtual smorgasbord: a pepperoni and mushroom pizza, two cartons of Chinese food, a cheeseburger which was spilling lettuce and tomato from its massive bun, a plate of golden battered French fries, and a warm peach pie. The television was on, with commentators rambling about the upcoming baseball game.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming." Danny entered the room, carrying two steaming mugs. "Hot chocolate," he announced, passing her one cup, keeping the coffee for himself. Careful not to upset the piles of food, he arranged himself in bed next to her.

Lindsay looked down into her mug. "You forgot something," she laughed. "One little detail you must have overlooked."

As if he had been just waiting for her protest, Danny instantly produced a spray-can of whipped cream from his back pocket. He inverted it and depressed the nozzle, releasing a foamy puff onto Lindsay's shoulder.

"You know," he remarked teasingly, "there are other ways to use this stuff… much more fun ways." He leaned over and slowly licked off every trace of whipped cream, the tip of his tongue causing her to shiver so hard, she nearly dropped her cup.

She wriggled away, though reluctantly. The bed buffet was too precarious to allow such antics. "Maybe later, but for now, let's use it for its _intended_ purpose." She gestured to the bounty before them. "You know, we're never going to be able to eat all this. We have enough food to last a week."

"I'm willing to give it my best shot," Danny replied, passing her a plate. "Just think of when we were on the train, starving to death. We would have killed each other for something like this."

"You would have chosen lo mein over me?" she asked, feigning hurt.

He sneered playfully. "I ended up with both, didn't I?" With a shared laugh, they commenced dining.

"Eating all this in bed, it's like two of the deadly sins at once—sloth and gluttony," Lindsay realized aloud, nibbling on a crab rangoon.

Danny leaned over and kissed her neck quickly. "Not just two sins--three. Don't forget _lust_," he added. "Anyway, this can't be a sin, it's heaven."

Relaxing and indulging with Danny? _Heaven indeed_, Lindsay thought. It had been four months since their impromptu journey on the train. So much had happened: Abrams, when confronted with the damning evidence compiled again him, had caved and given a full confession. He was sentenced to life in prison for the charge of first-degree murder, along with reckless endangerment and obstruction of justice for his role in Danny and Lindsay's ride. They had both attended the sentencing, hands clasped, listening as Abrams sobbed his apology to the family. He said he wanted Parsons to experience what he himself had felt – helpless, as something is ripped away from you.

It was a twisted logic, for sure. The experience had evoked conflicting feelings in Lindsay, however--not quite sympathy, but it abated her fury. Looking at it from another angle, Lindsay sometimes felt that the locomotive experience was one of the best things that could have happened. She knew that if she hadn't confronted her feelings, she and Danny would still likely be in the same position—going nowhere. Even worse was the possibility that all the hesitation would have grown tiring, and their friendship might have suffered. Not having him in her life was something she couldn't bear thinking about, so she didn't. Instead, she just savored every moment since their rescue, with Danny right by her side.

He held up his mug for a toast. "Cheers?"

Lindsay clinked hers to his. "Choo choo."

Less than half an hour had passed before both were groaning. The carton contents had only been half-consumed, and the pie had gone untouched.

"I'm never eating again," Lindsay declared. "Not ever." She covered the containers of food and took them out to the kitchen, afraid she would grow sick from the mere sight.

When she returned to the room, Danny had stripped off his shirt and was nearly asleep. "Maybe living on water and granola bars wasn't so bad after all," he mused with a yawn.

She slid under the covers next to him, something which still gave her quite a thrill. Being alone on the train was like their own private universe – so was this. "You aren't going to watch the game?" she asked, unable to prevent smiling at his grogginess.

"Forget the game," he murmured drowsily, eyes already closed.

It was the perfect lazy afternoon, and Lindsay was soon lulled into dreamland by the warm breeze drifting in the window, and the soft background noise of the television.

She woke a short time later, feeling as though she was being watched. Danny was propped up on his elbow, facing her, inches away.

"Hey," she whispered sleepily. "What's up? Why are you awake?"

"I'm thinking about you and me, and where we were and where we are."

She blinked in surprise, not expecting this conversation _now_. "I think where we are is a pretty good place."

"Are you happy you jumped?"

She kissed his lips tenderly once, then twice, and a third time. "Without. A. Doubt," she said between each pucker.

Danny was silent for a moment, the went on. "Then I guess my question is, where is this thing going?"

Lindsay smiled as she remember him asking her that very same question, not so long ago. Perhaps the context this time was not so different – they were on a journey with an unknown destination, but at least they were together. The mystery had once brought frustration, now it brought her hope and excitement. Maybe it would last forever. Maybe it wouldn't. But Lindsay was profoundly grateful that Danny had made her see the light. Because no matter what the future held, sharing her life with him had unearthed countless treasures already, ones she would cherish for a lifetime.

There was only one answer to the question.

"I can't say, exactly," she admitted, tracing his collarbones lightly with the tip of her finger. "But it's going in the right direction."


End file.
